Lost Parts
by SosaLola
Summary: What if Xander had gone with Willow to LA in Orpheus?


**Title:** Lost Parts

**Pairing:** Xander/Wesley

**Rating:** PG 13

**Disclaimer:** They belong to Joss and co.

**Feedback:** Please?

**Notes:** This is written for **enderswrath**'s challenge "Canon Schmanon", and this pairing was his special request. _"Xander/Wesley (oh yes...brownie points if you can get Season 4 Wes with Season 7 Xander)"_

**Summary:** What if Xander had gone with Willow to LA in Orpheus?

**Warning:** Character death and lost parts.

Big thanks to **lusciousspike** and **sublimatedangel** for the great beta :hug:

* * *

Willow checked for the third time to see if she had gotten everything she needed before closing her bag and heading downstairs. She said her goodbyes to the people she came across and cursed when she remembered she hadn't called for a taxi. This was one of the disadvantages of living in a small town like Sunnydale with no taxies cruising around.

She was still searching for her cell phone when she exited the house. To her surprise, Xander was leaning by his car, looking like he was waiting for her. "Xander?"

"Hey, Will, need a ride?"

She frowned. "You're coming with me?"

"Yeah, think I'm gonna let you go and face his psycho-ness by yourself?"

Willow rolled her eyes, walking towards the passenger door of his car. "I'm thinking you just wanna get away from all the crazy yet tiresome feeling we have going on here." She dropped her bag in the back, and took her seat.

"What? No," Xander halfheartedly denied, opening his door and getting inside himself.

Willow chuckled, looking at him as he fastened his seatbelt. "Give it up, Xander. I wanna get away too," she confessed softly.

"You do?"

"Yeah, you can't imagine how thrilled I was when Fred had called. God, it'll be nice to take a break from all of this." She rested her head back on her seat.

"Yeah, nice to take a break from all the 'You're all going to die. The First is not impressed by your pathetic attempts,'" he mimicked Buffy and started the engine.

Willow's eyes snapped open and she looked at him, shocked. "Xander! Are you making fun of Buffy? This isn't fair. She's doing this for all of us, you know."

He looked at her sheepishly, and nodded. "Yeah, I'm sorry."

After she made sure she had given him her best glare, she relaxed again in her seat. "'The power is in your hands. Seize it,'" she mimicked.

She smiled when she heard his amused laugh. "'I'm the slayer. The one with the power,'" he said in a rough voice.

She jumped in her seat, looking at him enthusiastically. "Oh, and 'The power is the keyword. I have no use for you if you don't have it or are too chicken to use it…'" she trailed off once she said the last line.

Suddenly, all the laughter faded and a horrible thick silence was the only thing left. With a sigh, Xander merged into the open road.

* * *

He could feel his eyes bugging out of their sockets. That was the hotel Angel lived in? He heard Willow sniggering next to him. "Told you it was huge," she said between giggles. "C'mon, let's get in."

Xander couldn't move. He wanted to, but it seemed like his eyes were hypnotized by the enormity of the hotel. Luckily, he felt Willow drag him inside.

Walking in, he could hear someone's voice speaking angrily, "… inside you know I'm right. We need to put Angelus down."

"I don't think so," Willow, next to him, said. Xander watched the three people turn around to look at him and Willow. A young man and a woman standing in the huge lobby in front of… was that Wesley?

Willow interrupted his thoughts when she spoke, "I think you need a witch."

Xander raised his eyebrows at the baffled faces of the three in front of them. "Okay. Did we come at a bad time?"

The strange version of Wesley looked at them, surprised. "Willow. Xander," he greeted, or maybe just acknowledged.

"She's a witch?" the young man sneered.

Willow approached the group and Xander followed her. "Yes. Hi. You must be Angel's handsome, yet androgynous, son."

Xander eyed him, shocked. He thought Angel's son was born last year. "Shouldn't you be a toddler by now?" he asked the boy.

The boy didn't pay him any attention. He said, addressing Willow, "It's Connor."

Willow nodded. "And the sneer's genetic. Who knew?"

The young woman approached Willow shyly. "Hi, Willow." She looked at Xander from under her eyelashes. "Hi."

Willow walked toward her. "Hey, Fred. It's good to see you."

Xander cast the woman a charming smile. "Fred. Now if only all the Freds I knew were this pretty." Fred giggled bashfully, while Willow gave him a look. "What? I'm single," he defended.

Willow sighed and then looked at Wesley. "Oh, and it's the Marlboro Man. Or at least his extra stubbly, mentally unstable, insomniac, first cousin of…"

"Will, breathe," Xander interrupted her babble fest with a smile. It had been awhile since Willow was this relaxed. Maybe this trip was going to be good for both of them.

"It's okay," he heard Fred next to him say. "I'm a yammerer from way back." Xander eyed her closely. She reminded him of Willow when the redhead was still in high school, insecure but giggly and energetic. And happy.

They all started talking about stuff Xander didn't even bother trying to understand. He stood there like the idiot he was and listened to them until Willow uttered the question Xander had been wondering about since he stepped inside the enormous hotel. "Where's Cordy?"

"Unfortunately, the guy you're all trying to magically re-ensoul shot her with a crossbow. She's not up for visitors." Connor sneered again. Something about the kid reminded Xander of himself years ago. Was he this obnoxious?

"I think she'll want to see Willow and Xander. After all, they've traveled a long way, and they all have a history together," Wesley said.

"I'd love to see Cordy, too," Willow said, smiling.

"I'll lead the way," Fred offered, looking at Willow with something Xander could call interest. That made him start to wonder.

"Sure." Willow smiled at her. "C'mon, Xander."

"I'm not so sure."

Willow looked at him, puzzled. "You don't wanna see Cordelia?"

"It's not like that… but Angel Jr. here…"

"It's Connor!"

"…said that Cordelia is not up to visitors, which means she's cranky, and a cranky Cordy is not something I'd call a fun trip." He smiled awkwardly.

"Okay." Willow let it go, still looking confused. As she started to follow Fred, Xander called her, "And Will?"

When she looked at him, he continued, "I might be single, but you're not."

Willow's eyebrows flew and were about to reach her hair line, but then she just shook her head and followed Fred to Cordelia's room.

* * *

Xander sighed and wondered what Willow and Cordelia were talking about. Were they talking about him? Yeah, he wished. They were probably talking about the spell and Angel.

Turning to the man next to him, who was still standing behind the bar looking at some files, Xander was caught again by the extreme change in Wesley. He clearly was not the same butt monkey Xander knew back in Sunnydale. Back in the old days. Back when things were far, far easier. He needed to stop dwelling on the past sooner or later. Not to mention stop 'dwelling' all together. He and Willow had decided this would be a 'get away' trip, a fun trip! If someone could call re-ensouling a crazy, homicidal vampire fun.

"So, Wes-man," he began, trying to get in with the fun thing. "How's life been since you left dear old Sunnydale?"

Wesley glanced at him, but his whole attention was on the papers in front of him. "Well, so much has happened since we last saw of each other." With that said, he ignored Xander's existence again.

Man, he was taking the whole bad-ass mysterious guy thing way too seriously.

"Wes, if you haven't noticed, I'm looking for conversation here."

"So I perceived," Wesley replied sarcastically. "Why don't you tell me about how you've been?" He looked Xander up and down like he was some piece of meat. Sweet, now he started thinking like a woman. "You've changed," he remarked.

"Not as much as you. How did that happen?"

Wesley sighed, looking away. "I…I made wrong choices. Last year."

Xander stared at him for a second. "Me too," he whispered.

Wesley looked back at him. "You were wondering why Connor isn't a toddler. The choices I made had something to do with it."

"Well, my choices led my ex-fiancée to return back to her venge-y ways."

"I've slept with the devil."

"In my case, she'd slept with the devil."

"Angel tried to strangle me."

"Faith tried to strangle me."

Wesley blinked. "Wasn't that years ago?"

"Yeah, I was just carried away."

Wesley burst out laughing. He was laughing so hard he barely kept his balance. Xander watched him and smiled. After composing himself, Wesley wiped the tears of laughter with his fingers. "It's good to laugh again."

"It's good to smile again. Believe me, not much of that happens back in Sunnydale these days."

"LA is not that different."

"So both of us made bad choices last year," Xander acknowledged. "Now why haven't I turned into a stubbly cool guy as well?"

Wesley looked at him amused. "You think I'm cool?"

"Well, yeah, chicks dig the stubble. And right now I rather attract someone who's not a demon."

Wesley looked back at his papers, chuckling. "You attract demons?"

"You didn't know? Guess you've never been there for any of my dating adventures."

"I know you've dated Cordelia," Wesley said, returning back to his files. "Who has turned into a half demon, by the way."

Xander grimaced. "Swell, and Cordy was my last straw of normality." He leaned back against the bar, and mumbled, "Guess now I should really consider turning gay."

"Pardon?"

"Here's Willow," Xander exclaimed, pointing at an approaching Willow in an attempt to change the subject more than anything.

"Here's me," she said, standing in front them. "So, should we start?"

* * *

Wesley smiled watching Angel and Willow hug. It had been a rather chaotic day, but wasn't the worst. It would seem that the worst was behind them, but Wesley was too aware to assume that.

His smile grew when Xander stood next to him extending a hand. They shook hands when Xander said, "It was nice seeing you again, Wes, even though you look and act nothing like the Wes I knew."

"You too." It was quite surprising that Xander only said his farewells to him. Perhaps it was because he had only interacted with him. He shook his head as Xander scurried after Willow and Faith. Some people just stay the same even when they physically change.

* * *

Wesley had no idea what had led him here. Right at the moment, it seemed that any place was much better than spending more time with his parents. However, he hadn't assumed his feet would lead him here to the Council building. He looked up intently. It certainly didn't look like it used to. It had appeared bigger before, but perhaps that was because the building was still under construction now. Nonetheless, it still had the same air of majesty. It also brought back memories, the unpleasant more than the pleasant.

"Lookie what we have here."

Wesley startled at the familiar voice, but calmly turned his head around to face Xander. His gaze was caught by the eye-patch covering the younger man's left eye. It lingered there until Xander stood right before him.

"Xander, what are you doing here?"

"Just handing the new slayer to the Council." Wesley's attention, which was fixed on the eye-patch, turned to note the several cuts in Xander's face. Apparently noticing Wesley's attention on his state of exhaustion, Xander explained, "We just got back from the airport." An Indian looking girl was led inside, slapping any hand that dared to touch her. "She's from Afghanistan."

"Oh." Wesley eyed the angry girl huddled in filthy, worn out fabric striding into the Watcher's Council. He looked back at Xander who rubbed the back of his head tiredly. That explained the cuts and the eye-patch. Wesley wondered why Giles would send Xander to such a dangerous place.

"Yeah," Xander said, flashing him a big smile. "Good thing I found her quickly. I discovered deserts are not my thing and a month over there sure gives you a nice tan."

Wesley smiled at the predictable attempt of humor. He was aware of the tanned skin and facial hair. "You got stubble."

"What?" Xander blinked.

A genuine smile took its place in Wesley's face. "Your exact words, 'stubbly cool'."

"Ah," Xander chuckled, almost laughing. His eye checked out Wesley's chin. "Hey, you lost yours."

Touching his smooth skin, Wesley replied, "Yeah, I suppose the situation is reversed."

"Yeah." Xander grinned, looking at the building. "You wanna get in?"

He wanted to. He wouldn't be hesitating if it wasn't for the fact that Rupert Giles had made it clear in their last phone call that he wasn't going to trust Angel and his team if they pursued their intentions of joining Wolfram and Hart.

"Will they allow me?"

"Why wouldn't they?" Xander appeared sincerely confused.

"Xander, I work at Wolfram and Hart."

"You guys still going through that phase?" Xander laughed as if it was a joke. Wesley couldn't blame him. He hadn't believed his ears when the offer to join Wolfram and Hart was given to them. The fact that they'd agreed to that contract was even more shocking.

After a glance at the entrance, Xander turned to face him. "Don't worry. I'll see if I can get you in there."

Wesley's eyes widened in immense shock. "You trust me?"

"Trust is something I've never been good at. But for some weird reason I'm thinking you're good."

"Thank you," Wesley said gratefully, still feeling astonished.

They started climbing up the stairs when Xander asked him, "So what are you doing here in the homeland?" He took a little pause before correcting, "Well, yours, that is."

Wesley grimaced as colored pictures of him shooting the robot that resembled his father flashed before his eyes. "I'm here to visit my father."

"Hmm, sweet. Maybe I should learn to visit my folks once in awhile, if I knew where they were, since they loped out of Sunnydale without even checking on their son." The small amount of bitterness was there even when Xander tried to mask it with a carefree sarcastic tone.

"Oh," Wesley understood. He could relate. While his parents were not neglectful, they were quite demanding sometimes. Although Wesley loved them to a great extent, he felt he could do without them sometimes. His friends back in Los Angeles were his real family.

Xander shrugged. "It doesn't matter. We've never been close anyway."

"Neither were my family and I," he admitted.

Xander grinned, looking at him. "First bad choices, now bad parents, what's next?"

Wesley just smiled.

* * *

Xander had always enjoyed being the boss. When he was the head of his crew last year, he gave pointless demands just for the heck of it. Hell, any twenty-one year old would do the same when given the upper hand. Now almost twenty-three, and he still enjoyed it. It wasn't like the guards would recognize Wesley, the only problem was Giles recognizing him, but giving orders sure felt good after being a helpless hostage for a while back in Afghanistan.

"So this is your office?" Wesley asked behind him when they entered the small room. Giles had insisted he should use a bigger one, but Xander had refused, claiming that huge offices meant small penises and Xander's sure as hell wasn't small. Giles didn't comment but made sure to change into a smaller office, which amused Xander.

"Temporary office," he answered Wesley, and settled behind his office. "After a week I'll be heading to Africa."

Wesley sat in a chair in front of him. "By Africa you mean…"

"Jungle, wild animals, uneducated citizens, that part of Africa."

Wesley regarded him for a second. The concerned look was sweet and so unexpected. "Why are you always assigned to such places?"

"Guess Giles wants to get rid of me. Still, I manage to get back alive." At Wesley's stunned expression, Xander laughed. "I'm joking, Wes. I was the one to convince Giles that I'm the right man for this."

"Why do you choose these particular places?"

"'Cause if it wasn't me, it'd be one of my friends?" He shrugged, before sighing. "It's not that. Right now I think I need the darkness."

"Haven't you seen more than enough of that in Sunnydale?"

"As much as the others? No. I've always been near it, it almost got me killed, but I've never touched it." As an annoying hyena laugh had rang in his mind, he corrected, "Well, apparently that's not true. I have touched it, temporarily, but it didn't stick."

"You want it to stick?" Wesley raised an eyebrow.

Xander laughed. "I really don't know what I want."

Wesley smiled before his eyes were caught by a picture of Xander, Buffy and Willow in high school that was placed on the top of his desk office. "Where are they now?"

Xander looked fondly at the laughing, innocent faces. "Buffy is taking a vacation. She and Dawn are in Rome. Willow is cruising Brazil with her girlfriend. And of course, the big man is doing what he does best, managing the Council."

He felt Wesley gazing at him, but Xander preferred staring at Buffy's chubby cheeks. He made sure his eye wouldn't land on his lanky body. Thank God, he had grown bigger over the years.

He looked at Wesley when the older man spoke. "Why don't you do the same? After all the contributions you've given…"

"By that, you mean I should join the lazy bunch?"

Wesley did an impression of eye roll, but apparently he was too British to actually roll his eyes. "I meant do something you love."

"Well, I can't. I've asked. Having one eye doesn't do well in the construction biz."

"I thought you lost your eye in Afghanistan."

Xander laughed. "I was going to have my head cut off from my body in Afghanistan." Good thing Xander had looked enough like them with the tan and dark hair, and of course played mute. If they had known he was American, he sure would have had his other body parts detached before the head. And Xander had never been a fan of body detachment. One lost body part was enough for this guy. "I lost it in Sunnydale, during a battle with a priest."

Wesley nodded. "You know you can restore it."

"I know." Willow had offered to do so, many times. He kept saying no, and now she was trying to find a way to get it back without Xander contributing in the spell.

"So what is stopping you?"

"It won't…" Taking a deep breath, he continued, "The eye was a scar I carried with me from Sunnydale. It just won't feel right to have the eye back and pretend nothing happened. Sure, at that time I wanted it back so bad. Now… now I'm a different person, and the eye-patch is part of this new person." He grinned. "You see, I've even stopped talking funny."

"I have noticed." Wesley looked at the clock on Xander's wall. "And I have noticed I'm here for a reason."

"Do I have to ask what?"

"I'm just taking a tour. You needn't worry, I shall try to avoid coming across Giles."

"Worst thing that would happen is another disappointed look from Giles directed at me, which I can live with."

Wesley smiled and started to leave.

"Hey, Wes," he called.

"What?"

"What are you doing tonight?"

"Tonight?"

"Well, I need some guy time. Since you're in town and I know no one here, except for Giles and a couple of girls... I mean, a night with the Big G talking gibberish about some lost slayer in a bar isn't really my cup of coffee."

"It's alright. It'll be more pleasant than another evening with my family."

"Alright." He took a paper and started writing. "Here's the name of this nice bar I saw on the way here from the airport, in case Giles kicks you out of here." He handed the paper to Wesley.

"43 South Molton Street," Wesley read. "I have been there, the first night I made it back to England. It's a fairly nice place."

Xander raised an eyebrow. "First night?"

"I had a lovely argument with my father."

"Yeah, father fights. I wish I wasn't underage when I used to have those. Could have used some beer." He frowned. "Or vodka."

* * *

The vodka in his glass smelled nice, it smelled like, well, vodka. The bar was very crowded, yet really tidy in comparison to the ones he had been to in California. It was probably a British thing. Xander grinned at the drunken British man next him. Wesley was lost in a fest of babble. Xander never knew Wesley was in love with Fred, it made him giggle.

Wesley tilted his head, glaring at him, and then gave him a smack. "When someone complainz, you muzt… you muzt…" He blinked, confused. "I forgot."

They burst out laughing before each taking a long swallow of their drinks.

An annoying song banged into his ears, but not as much as the young people who started shouting and whistling around them. Xander turned around watching people his age and few years older dancing in the center of the bar. Bodies smacked into each other, rubbing and wiggling. Xander decided he wanted to wiggle.

"Hey, wanna danze?" he asked Wesley, dragging him clumsily to the center.

Wesley managed to get out of his grip. He glared at him and shook his finger, his whole body swaying with every finger shake. "Men don't danze with each other."

"Who zaid so?"

"I… I forgot."

Xander grabbed Wesley's hands and started jumping around. Wesley giggled and jumped with him. "Danzing is fun!" the older man exclaimed, jumping around with a huge goofy grin.

They knocked a couple who were about to kiss as they hopped like bunnies. "Hey, watch it, you queers!" the boy yelled at them.

Wesley stopped jumping and blinked. "Are we queerz?"

Xander shrugged. "Who carez?"

They started jumping again, knocking the same couple over again. The boy, furious, walked towards them yelling insults. Xander wasn't focusing. He wasn't focusing until the boy snatched his eye-patch off his head.

Xander went rigid all of the sudden. Everybody around them stared at him with wide eyes. The girls gasped and the guys cursed. His hand quickly covered the injured eye and his head bowed down in embarrassment. He had never felt this naked in his whole life. It made him feel nauseous, and the large amount of alcohol that he had drunk was starting to take its affect.

The boy looked at him, stunned. "I… I'm sorry. I thought you were using it to look sturdy, is all." He handed Xander the eye-patch, but Wesley took it before Xander raised his other hand.

"Thank you. Now sod off," Wesley ordered coldly. He turned his attention to Xander and clumsily held the eye-patch up to help Xander put it on. The older man lost his balance and fell on Xander who held him in place, trying at the same time to keep himself steady.

Wesley looked up and his eyes narrowed at Xander's damaged one. It looked more like a look of wonder than fear and disgust. The fact that Wesley's face was a couple of inches away from Xander's, his breath hitting Xander's cheeks made Xander hot. When Wesley opened his mouth to talk, the smell of vodka slammed into Xander's senses and he reached forwards for the vodka.

He felt the hands using his shoulders for balance tensing and trying to push him away, but Xander needed the vodka. He sucked on the tongue that tasted of alcohol, wishing for his embarrassment and shame to go away. Vodka made people forget. It made them happy. Xander sucked more.

The hands on his shoulders gradually stopped fighting, and the mouth he was kissing hung open passively letting him have what he wanted.

Xander, suddenly, drew back, inhaling sharply. He looked at the panting man in front of him, and gasped, "That was nize." He took his eye-patch, slipped it on, and started heading towards the bar.

A hand grabbed his arm, and Xander turned to face Wesley. "What?"

Wesley, slowly, pulled him in front of him. That was when Xander realized he was few inches shorter than the older man. Then, very slowly, Wesley leaned down and kissed him. The kiss started soft and then it grew aggressive. Both men kissed with great passion that seemed beyond the alcohol's effect.

"Fred," Wesley groaned, and started kissing Xander's face.

"I'm Xander," he panted.

Wesley gave the eye-patch a long kiss, before he kissed Xander on the mouth again. Small black dots covered Xander's vision and he closed his eye. He ran his tongue along the upper set of Wesley's teeth, but Wesley's greedy tongue demanded attention. Now it was Wesley sucking on his tongue, and slowly, like a dream, Xander wasn't feeling anything.

* * *

Wesley stirred, awakening, feeling the cold hard floor under him. His head pounded like drums. He groaned, sitting up, his vision slowly adjusting to the light. He was still at the bar, but it was morning. He blinked at the few unconscious men and women around him. Looking down, he found Xander lying on the floor next to him. The last thing he remembered was Xander and he sitting by the bar talking and drinking.

It was surprising how they seemed to communicate better as the years had passed. They hadn't really had any grudges against each other when they were in Sunnydale. It was mainly the fact that Wesley had replaced Giles' position as Buffy's watcher that had upset the young man and his friends, added by the fact that he was somewhat fascinated with Cordelia. That and Wesley's incompetent, annoying character back then, which he thankfully had developed out of.

It was overwhelming and pleasant at the same time, how they seemed to start liking each other.

"Finally, you're up, mate."

Wesley looked at a huge man standing behind the counter. "Hello, sir," he said standing up.

"I shun't tell you hello until you get your arse outside this bar," the man said in a polite tone. "The manager was kind enough to let you folks sleep on the floor."

"Oh, oh, very well, sir." Walking towards the bar, Wesley grabbed his jacket and put it on.

"And don't forget your boyfriend."

"Boy…?" Wesley blinked at the man, puzzled.

"The chap." The man nodded at Xander, while counting the money from the counter.

Wesley stared at the man in ridicule. "What gave you such an idea?"

"The snogging, mate." The man smirked at him.

"Sno… we were kissing?"

"I'm most certain you did. Before he conked out, anyway."

Wesley looked back at the unconscious Xander, bewildered. They must have been awfully wasted. If Xander had lost consciousness before him, then he must have been more washed out. He wouldn't possibly remember. But Wesley was going to tell him, regardless. Xander's expression would be priceless!

With a chuckle, he walked towards the younger man. He searched his pockets and then brought out a mobile before he flung Xander over his shoulder. Exiting the bar, and certainly not paying attention to the critical eyes of the people passing by them, Wesley found Giles' mobile number and dialed.

It would be splendid to have Giles at his parents' house and watch the butler throw him out after the misery he had put Wesley through yesterday.

* * *

"Alright, I see. I believe it's not the time to say I told you so. I have said it's not the time, haven't I? Help will be on its way."

The sound of the phone hanging up was followed by Giles' sigh. "It seems that Angel is paying for his idiotic choices," Giles said to him. "That was Mr. Charles Gunn. I believe Angel was too proud to make this phone call."

"What are you waiting for? Go get help," he ordered.

"I suppose I shall." There were sounds of Giles getting up while speaking. "According to Mr. Gunn, he, Angel, Spike- please, don't ask- and someone named Illyria are the only survivors so far."

Xander heard Giles' footsteps going to the door, then the sound of the door opening. "A-are you sure you'll be all right by yourself?" Giles asked in a hesitant tone.

"I told you, quit asking me that." The dull feeling inside him made his voice sound harsh and bitter.

"Of course. I-I'm terribly sorry." Xander heard the door close.

So Wesley Wyndham-Pryce was dead. Killed. Yes, in a life like theirs, things didn't just happen. There was always a cause. And Wesley was killed. Dead. Gone. It all meant the same thing.

How painful and horrifying it was that he couldn't shed a tear for the man whom he surprisingly had a lot in common with. The man he had confessed so much to when he never did with his closest friends. The only man he had ever gotten into sexual contact with, even if it was only a couple of lousy drunken kisses he couldn't remember.

Sadly, Xander would never get the chance to tell him about the new scar he had gotten from Africa. His chest squeezed painfully. His breath shuddered. A person could tell he was close to crying.

He had never cried in his life. He had tears in his eyes on so many occasions, but he had never cried. The closest he was to crying was when Joyce Summers had died, but those were only streaming tears. That wasn't crying. Just tears.

Right now, Xander couldn't even have the tears. The painful grip on his chest got worse. That was when he realized that maybe a man with extremely damaged eyes could never have tears, but that hadn't meant that he couldn't cry. And Xander was already crying when he reached that conclusion. Crying for the first time.

**The End.**


End file.
